


Perfect, like you

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Valentine's Day, au meme, extremely fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 03:51:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry just wants Valentine’s Day to be as perfect as possible for Louis. Luckily, this time his plans actually work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect, like you

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Larry Stylinson AU Meme](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/17649) by Molloose. 



> This one shot is based off the AU Meme I've said that it was inspired by (and that I made, just for the record) because stagekisspers asked for it on Tumblr. So blame her for this cheese-fest, ok? :P

Harry’s been planning this for months. Literally, pretty much ever since Louis’ birthday he’s been working out ways to make Valentine’s Day as special as possible for the two of them - after all, even if they’ve been together for over 2 years now, he still feels he’s yet to impress upon Louis exactly how much he loves him. The extent to which he’s totally besotted with his boyfriend is something that could never be described in words or even actions, but he does his best to try and make his feelings clear by doing things like this. He finds words difficult, so it’s hard to lay his heart on a platter for Louis to see how ridiculously in love he is, so instead he plans for perfection, because that’s what Louis deserves.

So, he’s had plenty of time to make sure that the day they made sure long in advance would be free for them to spend as they wish will be utterly perfect. Being with Louis will make it perfect for him anyway, of course, but Louis deserves the best.

Harry’s still not sure how he got lucky enough to end up with Louis in his life, but he’s determined to make up for it in small ways, such as by planning out the perfect Valentine’s Day for them to spend together, just the two of them. That’s how he likes it.

The boys are great, of course, and he loves his and Louis’ families equally, but the time that they both spend in just each other’s company is that which he always treasures. Especially as it’s becoming more and more rare these days, what with Louis having bought himself a flat under the orders of his management, and Eleanor lurking in the edges of their lives. So when they’re alone it feels like something rare and special, and Harry is determined to make the absolute most of it.

***

Waking up with Louis’ arm wrapped around his waist, face buried into the crook of his neck so he can smell the sweet scent of strawberry shampoo and sweat and _Louis_ , has always been Harry’s favourite way to start the day. There’s just something so perfect about looking down and seeing the person he knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with already in his arms, and in that moment he doesn’t want to be anywhere else but there in their shared bed, with the warm weight of Louis’ body pressed against his side as a constant reminder of how lucky he is to have fallen irreversibly in love so early on in his life.

But this day isn’t about him, so with a small sigh he carefully slides out from under Louis’ grip and sits up in the bed. Over the years he’s perfected the art of disentangling his body from Louis’ without waking him, but he’s still quite pleased with himself when he manages to slip on some clothes (not his personal choice, but lately they’ve had to endure a few too many painfully awkward conversations with neighbours who’ve spotted Harry wandering around nude through the window of a morning) and leave the room while his partner remains snoring softly beneath the sheets.

It’s cold in the hallway. Buttoning up his shirt to counteract the chill of the February morning, Harry makes his way into the kitchen where he pulls on an apron and sets about making breakfast. Today has to be Louis’ special day, after all, and anyway, Louis can’t cook to save his life. Since they completely forgot about Shrove Tuesday a few days earlier, Harry decides to pour flour and break eggs into a bowl and begins mixing up pancake batter for the two of them while softly singing the opening bars to Truly, Madly, Deeply. It’s definitely his favourite song on the album, partly due to his duet with Louis in the chorus, but it’s rather a shock when he finishes the verse and another voice joins in with his own.

Louis’ arms wrap around his waist from where he’s somehow managed to travel silently across the kitchen, and they carry on singing together, voices entangling to form something much greater than the sum of its parts, as Harry tips in milk and water. It’s a little tricky to mix while he has Louis wrapped around him like a monkey, legs curling around his own, but at least it helps Harry focus on something to distract himself from getting hard so early in the morning. There’s just something about Louis when he wakes up - his mussed hair falling onto his forehead, eyes lazy and limbs soft and always so tactile - that makes Harry crazy.

Once the song is finished, Louis presses a kiss to the joint between Harry’s neck and shoulder (which he fucking _knows_ is Harry’s most sensitive spot, the bastard) and nuzzles a little into the skin there.

“Morning love,” he whispers, then pulls away reluctantly to grip a frying pan from the cupboard and places it on the hob.

“M’hungry,” he explains in that beautifully sleepy drawl of his that he only gets in the mornings, and that only Harry ever gets to hear in its full glory, and Harry smiles, shakes his head, and sets about pouring batter into the pan.

“Good job one of us can cook then,” he grins cheekily, turning up the heat on the cooker and getting on with the business of actually making them something edible. Louis gasps in mock-devastation at having his culinary skills insulted, but he knows it’s true. With a lazy smile he sets the table for them both and sits himself down, admiring the way his boyfriend’s body waggles in time to some tune he’s humming as he flips the first pancake expertly and repositions the chef’s hat balanced on his mop of particularly unruly curls.

He wants to tell him he loves him; however given that Harry’s cooking that probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Harry still has a habit of flushing red whenever Louis says those three words unexpectedly, and then going into a sort of love-struck haze which is totally adorable, yes, but probably not the best mindset for trying not to burn their breakfast.

“Voila!”

Louis has been so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even realise Harry had finished making the first pancake until suddenly a plate is slid onto the table in front of him and a beaming face is in front of his own. The pancake is a little overly done, and looks like it got stuck to the pan in some places, but it’s perfect and Louis says so as he sprinkles sugar and drizzles lemon juice over the top of it. Harry beams.

“Just like you then.”

***

After their third pancake each both of them are fairly stuffed, unlike if Niall was there in which case he could probably manage at least 10. Louis has a blob of jam that he smeared over one of his pancakes attached to his bottom lip in a way that should definitely not be as sexy as it is, but he’s also wearing his expression that means he wants Harry to kiss him and that’s even more of a turn-on.

Swallowing his final mouthful, Harry knows he’s more than willing to comply with the wordless request and so leans across the table to capture Louis’ lips with his own. His tongue flicks out to wipe away the raspberry jam, and he delights in the way Louis’ mouth tastes of pancake batter as his hands reach up to wind between the soft strands of Louis’ hair. In order to bring them closer together so they can deepen the kiss, Harry has to lean further across the table, and he feels his shirt dragging through the golden syrup on his plate, which is a bit gross but totally worth it.

In fact, when Louis’ tongue is running along the edges of his mouth and his hands are on his neck and the moment just seems so amazingly perfect, anything is worth it.

When they eventually have to surface for air, Louis looks surprised and pleased and amazingly kissed: his eyes are bright and sparkling; his hair is even more mussed than before; his lips are red and slightly swollen and curled up into a lazy, satisfied smile.

“What was that for?” he asks, bemused but still grinning like a fool. Harry shrugs.

“Cos I love you, you twat - plus it’s Valentine’s Day, remember?”

Louis smiles at that, like he’d honestly forgotten before that this is the day they can be as romantic as they like and there’s nothing anyone can do about it, then makes to kiss Harry again before a long, pale finger pressed against his lips stops him.

“Uh-uh,” grins Harry, who’s still staring at Louis as though he’s the moon and stars all rolled into one. “You need to go get changed now, so we get there in good time!”

Louis raises an eyebrow.

“Get where? What have you been planning, Styles?”

Holding back a laugh, Harry simply taps the side of his nose conspiratorially and starts clearing away the plates as he replies.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out! Now go get changed, sweetcheeks.”

Sighing deliberately melodramatically, Louis blows Harry a kiss before sweeping out of the kitchen, wondering what on earth Harry’s plans for the day could be.

***

It turns out that Harry’s plans involve lots of shopping (mostly at little hipster boutiques that normally would make Louis laugh with their overly bohemian clothes and assistants who all seem to have dip-dyed hair, but that today just make him smile because these are Harry’s special places and he’s allowed to be there too) and generally strolling around London playing their favourite game of ‘hide from fans and fuck the paparazzi’.

Normally they’d be extra careful while out in the city centre where there’s so many pairs of keen eyes that could easily spot and call them out, but today they can’t be bothered to keep up pretences. Louis knows that he’s spending most of his time staring at Harry’s eyes and his lips in a way that is definitely less than platonic, and their arms are wrapped almost constantly around each other’s waists as a small act of defiance on their day off.

It’s reminiscent of last Valentine’s Day, when they were in Paris and concentrating more on being completely in love than acting like two straight members of the biggest up-and-coming boyband in the world. Now, of course, that’s rarely an option for them, however Harry seems determined that today will be an exception. If anything he’s acting _more_ gay and couply than they would normally do at home!

Louis can’t help but love that about him, though: the way he can never help but be himself when it comes to his boyfriend, no matter how many times their management bury their heads in their hands and drag out another beard for him.

Anyway, after having spent most of the day out and about, Louis is exhausted when he arrives home, and he pretty much collapses onto the sofa without even shrugging off the denim jacket that he nicked off Harry earlier this morning. His arm still aches a bit from the tattoo Harry had organised for him to get that morning, and he clutches it to his chest in mock-agony, claiming that Harry should have just bought them stick on ones instead. Laughing at his boyfriend’s drama queen behaviour, Harry drops their purchases in their various carrier bags in the kitchen and pours them both a glass of wine while he’s at it.

They ate far too much at a wonderful albeit not particularly romantic sushi restaurant earlier, so neither of them are hungry, but he can tell just from Louis’ body language that he feels like relaxing. No matter how much they’re acting like themselves, it’s still stressful being Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson from One Direction.

When he walks back into the living room, Louis is kneeling in front of the DVD player, clearly having just inserted a disk into the machine.

“What are we watching, babe?” asks Harry curiously, but Louis just smiles as he stands up and takes a glass from Harry’s hands before leaning up to kiss him. Humming against Harry’s lips, his free hand wraps around his shoulder and his lips curl up into a smile.

“I wanted to do that all day,” he admits. “You just look so gorgeous.”

Harry smiles and flushes and giggles like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Flatterer,” he quips eventually, dragging Louis over to the couch that they then plonk themselves down on and curl up together as the opening credits to When Harry Met Sally roll up the TV screen. Grinning, Harry turns his head to rest it on Louis’ head, knowing that this is his boyfriend's favourite romantic film. Without even needing to talk, they reposition themselves a little on the sofa so Harry can lie back with Louis pretty much on top of him while the movie unfolds. Having Louis so close to him, his breath tickling Harry’s cheek and the pulse of his heartbeat pumping in time with his own, has never felt as good as it does now.

Lou is clearly totally engrossed in the film, despite having watched it God knows how many times, but Harry’s eyes wander a little around the room until suddenly they focus in on the mantelpiece where their Valentine’s cards to each other have been carefully positioned above the fireplace. Louis must have done it earlier when he was out of the room.

Every year they have a competition to find the cheapest, cheesiest cards for one another – the more pink, fluffy, or otherwise tacky the better. Last year Louis was the clear winner with a 6 foot monstrosity of a card with glitter on every available surface, but Harry privately thinks he’s even managed to surpass that this year with a frankly rather disturbing card that not only displays Justin Beiber’s face prominently on the front, but also plays an excerpt from the song Boyfriend every time it’s opened. Harry’s secretly very proud that he made Louis laugh so much that he almost made him fall off his seat at the restaurant when he showed it to him.

His hands find themselves playing with the hair at the base of Louis’ neck as on the screen the title characters fall in love in New York. He decides he wouldn’t mind that one day: running away to America and never coming back. They could just travel and make music and eventually settle down in the middle of nowhere and raise a huge family. He’ll tell Louis about it sometime when he’s had too much to drink or is in that stage just before sleep when everything seems possible and he's able forget about anything that might get in the way of them living out his fantasy together. With a contented sigh, he settles down into the sofa and closes his eyes for just a second as the heat of the room and Louis beside him seeps into his bones and makes him feel lazy and blissful.

***

Harry blinks awake a couple of hours later after not having even realised he was asleep, and realises that the film has finished and Louis is curled up next to him on the sofa, still off in his own dreamworld.

Smiling, he carefully extracts himself from his position in between mountains of cushions ad the warm mass of Louis’ body and stands by the sofa for a moment so he can admire his boyfriends’ sleeping form. A blissful sigh escapes from his lips as he leans forwards to press a kiss to Louis’ temple, then makes his way across the room to the half-open door. This is the perfect opportunity to sort out everything he needs for the next stage of his plan to unfold later…

***

“Louis?” The young man’s eyes start to flicker open at the call of his name, but he’s still not quite dragged himself out of his sleeping state by the time the gentle call comes again. “Louis, wake up, babe.”

With a yawn, Louis stretches out his arms to shake the cricks out of his back and opens his eyes fully to see Harry’s softly smiling face above his.

“How long have I been asleep?” he whispers, not wanting to break the precious silence of the moment in the sudden darkness of the room that had been perfectly well lit when he’d fallen asleep earlier. However Harry just shakes his head and pets his hair adoringly.

“Only a few hours, don’t worry – but I’ve got something to show you!” Intrigued, Louis allows Harry to pull him gently up from the sofa and through the darkened room, but is surprised when they reach the hallway and a pair of strong, pale hands clap over his eyes. He halts instantly at his sudden lack of vision, but Harry is right behind him and the warmth of his chest flush against Louis’ back is comfort enough to encourage him to carry on walking. He trusts Harry with his life, knows he won’t let him crash into anything.

When they stop again, Louis’ calculated that they must be outside their bedroom door and, sure enough, when the hands pull away from his face he finds himself in the doorway to the room that he and Harry have shared pretty much since they moved in, Harry’s official room remaining unused except for the occasional times Zayn and Liam sleep over and want a double bed. However, it’s not just his normal, everyday bedroom that he’s looking at. Oh no.

Harry has clearly been busy while Louis was asleep; the room is completely redecorated! Candles are lighting up the space from every available surface, photographs of the two of them looking so blissfully happy to be in each other’s company are clustered together on top of their chest of drawers, and best of all, rose petals are strewn all over the floor and the fresh white sheets on the bed. In the middle of the mattress, the petals are arranged in the shape of a heart in a way that’s so corny and yet so heartfelt and meaningful that Louis feels like his heart might explode.

He can feel his eyes beginning to water as his vision becomes misty, and his hand reaches out involuntarily to take Harry’s next to him. No one has ever done anything like this for him before – no one has ever thought he was special enough. Then his eyes fall on the sex toys and lube resting on the bedside table and he chuckles under his breath because, honestly, that’s just so _typically_ Harry to counteract the romance of the scene with preparations for what Louis is fairly sure is his favourite activity. Well, maybe second after singing but still.

However the laughter clearly makes Harry worry that he’s done something wrong, for he frowns and turns quickly to Louis to take in his expression for signs of displeasure.

“Is it too much?” he asks a little dejectedly, and Louis immediately regrets laughing because now Harry feels humiliated when actually this is probably the most amazing thing he's ever done for him in the whole time they’ve been together.

“Not at all!” he tells him, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and holding the younger man as close to him as possible, as though by physical contact he can somehow relay the intense amount of love he’s currently feeling towards him. “It’s amazing, Haz – I can’t believe you’ve done this all just for me! I’m just overwhelmed…” His voice trails off as he looks around the room again, taking in new details every time he observes his transformed surroundings.

Now it’s Harry’s turn to laugh.

“Louis Tomlinson speechless: now there’s a sight I never thought I’d see!” Louis smiles at that too, then basks in the moment of silence that follows, during which Harry’s hands manage to get a grip on his t-shirt and their hips seem suddenly much closer together than before.

“Do you honestly like it though?”

Looking up (and he’s glad that their house is on a bit of a slant because otherwise he’d have to go on tiptoes and that would be awkward) Louis presses their foreheads together so they’re looking deep into each other’s eyes, blue and green clashing and blending and moulding together in a gaze that’s full of passion and understanding and pure, unadulterated love.

“Harry, it’s perfect.” And he totally means it.

Harry beams like Louis just simultaneously cured cancer and ended global warming, and flushes deep red to the point where Louis’ certain in must reach his collarbones (and, yeah, he totally wants to check right now, just to be certain).

“Just like you then.”

Grinning at his corny sentiment that he repeated earlier, Louis keeps his eyes open as he presses their lips together in a kiss that’s soft and gentle but well-practised and equally perfect.

“Shall we put this bed you’ve set up to good use then?” he asks cheekily once the embrace is over, and Harry’s keen smile is answer enough.

***

Several rounds of increasingly loud and passionate sex later, Harry and Louis are kissing lazily in the dim light of the almost burned-out candles while their hands are clasped together on the bed. Not long ago they were both simultaneously sucking each other off (a position that happens to be a favourite but unfortunately rather rare part of their repartee), and afterwards they were both so wrecked that it was all Harry could do to move back a little on the mattress until their heads are now positioned above each other’s. All this has culminated in the fact that they’re currently kissing upside down in a way that’s vaguely reminiscent of Peter Pan and Mary Jane in Harry’s favourite Spiderman film.

Louis’ face is flushed, his lips swollen, his hair epically tousled over his forehead. Harry swears he’s never been more beautiful. He would tell him so, but the moment is too perfect to ruin with words and, anyway, there aren’t enough words in the English language to describe how beautiful and wonderful and amazing he’s always known Louis is, but that only now is becoming so totally clear to him.

Instead he opts for three words that he will never tire of telling Louis for as long as he lives, and Louis grins into the kiss and says it straight back to him. Their words are slow and thick with sleep, yet still don’t fail to be heartfelt in the hush of the near-dark room that for tonight at least they can call their own. For several more minutes they just remain in the same position, unwilling to move despite the slightly awkward angle of their mouths and bodies on the mattress.

Harry will never be bored of Louis’ lips – the way they get so sensitive after long kissing sessions, the small moans emitted from hiss mouth when he nips at them playfully, their distinctly sweet yet musky flavour that probably has something to do with Harry’s cum that was filling his mouth less than quarter of an hour ago – but eventually Louis mumbles something against his lips and he pulls away to let him speak coherently.

“What is it, love?”

“M’tired,” explains Louis, eyes fluttering shut for a little longer than normal, and Harry is reminded of their conversation this morning – although it seems a lot longer ago than less than a day when he thinks about it. “Can we sleep now?”

Smiling compliantly, Harry forces his sleepy body to get up from the bed and function properly so he can walk the few steps around the edge of the mattress and curl up next to Louis on the bed. Admittedly he does pretty much end up collapsing on top of Louis’ tanned chest, enjoying the feeling of their sweat mingling together on their equally exhausted bodies, and Louis huffs out a laugh before wrapping his arms around Harry’s lower back and holding him close so their bodies mould together as though they’re made for each other.

“Thanks for today, Hazza,” he tells him quietly, clearly half asleep already but determined to express his gratitude for the hard work and effort that Harry has put in to treating him so much better than he thinks he deserves.

“It was nothing…” mumbles Harry, but Louis persists.

“No it wasn’t. It was perfect.”

With that his grip loosens on Harry’s waist, his jaw goes slack and it becomes clear from his heavy breathing that he’s out for the count.

The last thing Harry sees before he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep is their arms side by side on the crisp white sheets, brand new tattoos vibrant in the dark. There were plenty of options to choose from at the tattoo parlour, but in the end they went for a nice, simple design: he has a lock, Louis has a key.

That’s how they’ve always been – Louis does the hard work to make sure that their secrets stay locked away inside Harry’s chest, but at the same time it’s only Louis who can make him properly open up and express himself. Louis does everything, and yet he also does nothing but be himself, and in doing so he is (in Harry’s eyes at least) completely perfect.

“Just like you then,” he whispers against the soft skin of Louis’ chest, then his eyes slip shut and he falls fast asleep in what is possibly his favourite position to do anything ever: with Louis right beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> I did warn you it was fluffy...


End file.
